


@voxofficial snapped lmao

by ckret2



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: All the characters are jerks, Canon-Typical Behavior, Conspiracy Theories, Explicit Language, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Sexual Humor, mild aphobia in the form of Val being like 'EVERYONE is horny this is a fact'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: Vox is desperately trying to figure out the exact nature of the apparent secret alliance between the Radio Demon and Sir Pentious.Velvet is casually documenting Vox's slow descent into madness.Valentino just wants to know why nobody's considering the possibility that they're banging.
Relationships: Alastor/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 328





	@voxofficial snapped lmao

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [rheic-arts](https://rheic-arts.tumblr.com/) with the prompt: "Sir Pen and Alastor coming to each other's aid at the most random of times, seemingly barging all over the other and leaving other characters befuddled at how neither of them have killed the other. They're dating but legit nobody has figured out that that's what it is."
> 
> And I was like, "How do you feel about it being largely from another character's perspective? My first thought is Vox trying to work out how it is they keep getting involved in each other's fights [like,](https://66.media.tumblr.com/9bb0acb1daac6cd79daf7f43b750d5e1/d53a7713cc3718fd-66/s400x600/0023cae1ae3ad2c5578d09dcee554a03fa0a8e1c.jpg) and rheic was like "YES that'd be great, ultimate confusion!"
> 
> So here, have some ultimate confusion.

"There's _something_ I'm missing," Vox snapped.

He was glaring at two cork boards covered in newspaper clippings and smart tablets, attached with push pins and sticky tack, connected together with a web made of differently colored electric wires, displaying pictures and looping video clips of the Radio Demon and Sir Pentious.

"There's a connection here," he went on. "I know it."

Velvet rolled her eyes, then spun around in her office chair to take a selfie with Vox in the background. She made sure to snap it at an angle that would let her followers see the big bad conspiracy theory boards he was fuming over but not what was on them. She uploaded the selfie with the caption "@voxofficial snapped lmao 🤣🙄😒 #overlordproblems" and posted it.

Vox's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, checked the alert, said, "Fuck you," and stuffed his phone away to resume glowering at the boards.

"So RD slipped out of your trap last night," Velvet said, gaze glued to her feed as she scrolled down. "I don't know why you think Sir Pretentious had anything to do with it."

"The fact that he slipped out is _why_ the snake had something to do with it!" Vox rounded angrily on Velvet. "There's no other way he could have found out about the trap."

"You announced it. Online," Velvet said.

"Well."

"To all hundred million of your followers."

"I repeat: there's no way _RD_ could have found out about the trap."

Velvet wheezed a laugh. "Okay, so somebody told him. Why are you so sure it's Sir P? Instead of one of your other ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand—"

"Shut up."

"—nine hundred and ninety-nine other followers."

"I'm over a hundred thirty million now, you know."

"Ooh, what a big boy."

Vox made an ugly face at her. "I know because Sir Pathetic owed RD a rescue. The _last_ time Hissy stuck his non-existent nose in my business and I tried to call in the order to have his stupid blimp shot down, _somebody_ coincidentally decided he felt like broadcasting his favorite show tunes on _all frequencies_."

Velvet shrugged. "That's what you get for using a cell phone instead of a land line."

"Wh—You're one to talk, you're _glued_ to your cell phone!"

"Yeah, but my sworn nemesis isn't a guy called the _Radio_ Demon."

" _Anyway!_ " Vox jabbed a finger angrily on a diagram of the electromagnetic spectrum. It looked like it had been torn out of a textbook . "Up until now, RD has operated _exclusively_ on AM frequencies. The idiot's _proud_ of the fact that he's still on AM. Like there's any reason to be proud of falling so behind the times a Boy Scout can build the technology you operate on with a piece of foil, a copper wire, and a butt plug." He pounded the textbook page insistently. "AM radio is from .5 megahertz to 1.7 megahertz! My cell phone operates on 1800 megahertz!" He gave Velvet an intense look.

Velvet shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything to me."

"That's over a thousand times higher! It's—it's like the difference between running one lap around a track and running a thousand laps in the same amount of time! That's an _astronomical_ leap! And it means he can broadcast on TV, he can disrupt satellite signals, he's not far away from interfering with WiFi... He would _not_ let me know he's had that kind of jump in power unless his hand was forced. Such as..." Vox traced a wire leading from the textbook page to a newspaper article picturing one of Sir Pentious's airships, "if I was threatening the snake and he had to intervene!"

Valentino pushed open the door and leaned in, holding a cereal bowl and a wine glass. "Are you going on about your conspiracy theory again?" He blinked, leaning back. "Jesus fuck, your chart doubled."

"It's not a _conspiracy theory!_ This is all solid evidence!" Vox slapped one of the boards. A couple of pins dislodged and their papers fluttered to the ground. "It's an indisputable fact that RD and SP _are_ allies!"

Flatly, Velvet said, "Because the only one of your hundred _thirty_ million followers that could've warned Mister DJ about the trap was Sir Piteous."

Valentino leaned against the desk and picked up his spoon. "Have you told her about the monocle chain yet?"

" _No!_ No, I haven't! Look, look, look—" Vox scrambled to the far side of his chart.

Valentino glanced at Velvet and winked. She raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, look." Vox pointed at a polaroid picture. "Ten months ago, RD switched out the chain on his monocle. Now it's got these rectangular links of different lengths, very Art Deco, you see?"

"I see links," Velvet said.

"I've scoured all nine circles looking for another chain like that!" He flipped through a dozen different images on one of the tablets. "I found some sorta similar ones, but none quite the same! This one's too thick, this one's got too many small links between the big ones, this one's not black—"

"We get the picture, skip to the end," Valentino said.

"Until _this one!_ " Vox stopped on a picture of Sir Pentious removing a pocket watch from an inner jacket pocket. He zoomed in on the picture, focusing on the chain dangling over the back of his hand, and pointed dramatically between it and the picture of the monocle chain. "Huh? Huh?" He grinned victoriously.

Velvet shrugged. "So they shop at the same jeweler."

Valentino snorted. "That's what _I_ said." He scooped a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

"You two are hopeless." Vox turned away, crossing his arms.

Mouth still full, Valentino asked, "Is this all because RD kicked your ass yesterday?"

"He did _no such thing!_ " Vox noticed the fallen papers, snatched them up, and muttered under his breath as he looked for the spots they'd fluttered down from.

Velvet peered into Valentino's bowl and made a fake gagging noise. "Seriously? Cocoa puffs and wine?"

"It's a Madeira," Valentino said, sneering. " _Bual_ Madeira. Coffee and caramel notes. Pairs wonderfully with chocolate."

"That isn't chocolate, that's brown chalk."

"You drink wine out of boxes." Valentino turned back to Vox. "If you're already so convinced that you're right, why are you still adding to your chart? Who are you trying to convince?"

"Is it _us?_ " Velvet asked, surreptitiously snapping a picture of Valentino and his brunch. "Because all you're doing is convincing me that you're nuts."

"No," Vox snapped, glowering at his boards. "I'm trying to figure out the _nature_ of their alliance. _Why_ are they working together?! What do they offer each other?"

(As Vox ranted, Valentino's phone vibrated. He pulled it out, glanced at the notification, and muttered, "Oh, fuck you." Velvet smirked.)

"I don't see it! It can't be the power, RD could do a hell of a lot better than that old wash-up. RD's got no interest in taking over hell and Sir Pretentious doesn't care about _any_ of RD's hobbies—"

"They're fucking," Valentino said.

Velvet cackled.

Vox gaped at Valentino in horror. "What?!"

"They're fucking." Valentino sipped his wine.

"Wh—N—Do you _know this?_ Do you have evidence?"

Valentino waved his spoon at Vox's disturbingly elaborate charts. " _You're_ the one who said your evidence is indisputable. It's the only explanation that makes sense."

"Ugh." Vox dragged a hand down his face, leaving a temporary trail of misfiring pixels where his fingertips pressed into his screen. "You almost gave me a blown fuse."

"Oh? Kinky."

" _Cardiac arrest-y._ They're not fucking. It isn't possible. Those prisses can't even _say_ 'fuck.'"

"Oh, similar weird personal hang ups," Velvet said. "Add that to your list of evidence."

"I _did!_ " Vox pointed at two handwritten pages taped together and hanging from the bottom of one of the boards. "It's in between 'told the same dumb pun about wheels' and 'seen within twenty blocks of each other in the first two hours after the yearly genocide four years in a row despite the cities being hundreds of miles apart.'"

"They spend purges together!" Valentino laughed. "You're proving my point! _Everyone_ fucks in genocide bunkers."

"You know what your problem is?" Vox jabbed a finger toward Valentino. "You're obsessed with sex. Everything about your life orbits around sex. Your hobbies, your businesses, your _glasses_ —When all you've got is a hammer, everything looks like it needs to get nailed."

Valentino shrugged. "Okay. If they're not allies because they're inexplicably attracted to each other, then why _are_ they allies? Give me the brilliant explanation you've worked out."

"Well—I—" Vox turned to look at his double cork boards plastered with evidence. He glanced back and forth between them for a long moment; then he sagged forward, thunking his face against the papers with a faint defeated slapping sound.

"Uh- _huh_." Valentino triumphantly ate another spoonful of cereal.

"Your cocoa puffs aren't even puffs anymore," Velvet said. "They're all soggy mush."

"If you don't like my cereal, go get your own."

Muffled by the board, Vox said, "RD doesn't fuck." The breeze stirred up when he pulled his flat screen back caused a few nearby papers to flutter and fall off. "It doesn't happen. The bastard's completely lustless. I think he traded his cock for a built-in microphone."

Velvet wheezed. "Imagine him trying to use it. Think he'd have to take out a couple ribs to reach it?"

"That's actually an urban legend," Valentino said, "all autofellatio takes is yoga and a really long dick. How flexible is he?"

"Well, he wouldn't need to _suck_ it, just talk into it—"

"Please," Vox said, " _please_ stop talking about Radiohead sucking his own dick."

"Anyway," Valentino said, "nobody's _completely_ lustless—just repressing some fucked up fetish."

"I'm calling vore," Velvet said.

Vox grimaced. "Nah, he's not repressing that."

Valentino spread two of his arms. "Why do you think RD's the only one who doesn't have any lust? He shoot you down?"

"FUCKING _EXCUSE_ YOU—" Vox proceeded to made a series of very loud, very indignant, very sweary sounds. 

Velvet pulled up a TV remote app, pointed her phone at Vox's face, and turned down the volume.

"Hey, what do you th..." Vox's volume hit zero. He stalked over to Velvet, swatted her hand, turned on closed captioning, and continued silently ranting at Valentino: "NO! When you have a nemesis long enough, you get a sense for things like that! He is NOT fucking the snake."

"You're _so_ in denial," Valentino said lightly, swirling his wine glass. "It's almost sad how jealous you are. You'd probably get farther if you started asking yourself what it is the snake's got that you don't."

Vox gave Valentino a grimace of disgust.

Valentino graced Vox with a shit-eating grin.

Vox flipped Valentino's cereal bowl into his chest.

Valentino gasped in horror, looking down at his suit. "What the hell!" He grasped his soggy, stained-brown collar. "Do you know how many albino lions went into this coat?! Do you have _any idea_ how hard it is to get an albino lion pelt into a portal to hell!"

"It suits you better now. It looks like you've been dribbling bullshit out of your mouth."

Valentino smashed his glass of Bual Madeira against Vox's screen.

Velvet casually rolled her office chair out of Vox and Valentino's way as they started attempting to re-kill each other. She scooted it along in front of Vox's conspiracy boards, skimming over the pictures until she found one that actually showed the Radio Demon and Sir Pentious together: the Radio Demon was sitting at a piano on a stage with several other musicians, gazing out at what looked like the audience of a jazz club; Sir Pentious was at a table with a couple of his annoying egg minions several rows back from the stage, watching the show. Vox had circled both their heads and drawn a line between their eyes in yellow highlighter, and scribbled above it in red sharpie "EYE CONTACT?"

Velvet snapped a picture, uploaded it, and made a poll with the caption, "@sir_pentious1888 and #theradiodemon📻 have been hanging out a lot lately! 🎵 POLL: are they fucking or nah? 🖤💔 (plz answer, @voxofficial & @daddyvalentino are brawling over it! 🤣)" After a moment, she added a follow up comment: "anyone w/ more conclusive 🖤proof🖤 gets a free promo! 😘"

Then she refreshed her feed, sat back, and waited for the carnage to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> This post also linked on tumblr [here](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/611908449677279232/voxofficial-snapped-lmao). If you enjoyed the fic, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog there—or a comment here!


End file.
